


'Cause though the truth may vary, this ship will carry.

by orphan_account



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M, Social Media/Texting Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24348271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nicky and Gigi strike up a friendship online, but just can’t meet until the time’s exactly right.
Relationships: Nicky Doll/Gigi Goode
Kudos: 26





	'Cause though the truth may vary, this ship will carry.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” - “Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then.”, and inspired by the song little talks, you know the one! M/M Gigi/Nicky, little bit of unrequited crushing and a lot of fate, lol.
> 
> (I’ve been like, long obsessed with social media and online connection in my fics because I think it’s… kind of a fun and unique part of this fandom? Anyway, in current times; I just got the idea for this, and kinda… had to.)
> 
> CW: slight mentions of homophobia.

The sun’s almost setting on an August day when Gigi flicks through the games in his library, bored of sniping enemies from rooftops, set on finding something else that has a competitive mode, kicking underneath his bed to find his headset. It would probably be best to at least try to talk to other people, and maybe even count up all the times people call each other gay without even realizing they’re talking to someone, who’s made sixteen dollars an hour dressing up as a girl and working at the rock climbing wall for all of high school.

There’s _gay,_ and then there’s Gigi Goode; with a closet hanging full of custom couture, not that he’d ever admit to his mom that her work isn’t the worst.

There’s only one player in the team’s group chat, as Gigi adjusts his headset so he can talk into the mic.

 _“Hello?_ ”

“Hey.”

“Hi!”, laughs the voice in his headphones; crackling as Gigi shoots and blows apart a box in the game’s lobby. There’s an accent there he can’t quite place, not that it matters so much, since the guy on the other end easily guides him through the map and even cracks a couple of jokes as one of the other team’s players is booted off a cliff. Maybe he’s Spanish, or Russian, since there are lot of Russian people on the server at this time of almost- night. 

They queue for another round, his player’s character stopping next to a poster of one of the girls in the game.

“I like her, do you?”, he asks, and Gigi cringes a little. Straight guys were fucking exhausting, but this was just embarrassing-

“Like, this coat, with the belt like this, makes her waist look like she is a wasp. The insect, not the white people.”, he keeps talking, and Gigi’s eyes widen a little.

“Yeah, I’d buy those boots.”, he jokes, hoping that whoever it is, will take it in stride, and he won’t have to listen to someone who’d been cool for the past half an hour, suddenly start losing their mind over how gay that was to say out loud.

“The boots? I want this hair- I want just Mortal Kombat hair but like this color, and maybe instead of a gun I want the scepter, like Sailor Jupiter. You’ve seen that, yes?”

Gigi blinks a couple of times. _He’s serious?_

“Like, of course. Yeah.”

“She’s a Mugler bitch. Hm, aren’t you?”, the voice teases on the other end; kicking at one of the boxes in the game.

Gigi is silent, as their queue timer runs out, and they join into another game which is already active when they’re dropped in.

“It’s the Hermes winter collection.”

“What?”

“That jacket is a dupe from the Hermes winter collection. You said Mugler-”, Gigi repeats, blasting through a wall in the game.

“Oh- oh you’re saying- this past winter! Of course! Maybe someone on the design team is also a fan?”

“Maybe.”

They finish the round, and Gigi eagerly hits yes; when a little box pops up to add TheNickyDoll to his friends list.

(He adds him back on Discord, too- because he’s probably not taking his Xbox to college, and they can send pictures right away.

He’s not a serial killer, and he’s _cute._

Gigi can’t help but wonder if _Nicky_ thinks the same of him.)

* * *

They slowly knit together in between Gigi’s first semester, and when Nicky moves into a new apartment in the eleventh arrondissement in Paris, and pops a bottle of champagne against his camera on his phone, propped up in his new kitchen. He plays with the zipper on his hoodie, and Gigi still can’t help but be surprised with how simple his wardrobe is.

He spends hours carefully curating his wardrobe, though he supposed in Europe, there were just better pickings.

“Don’t you have friends?”, Gigi jokes, shirtless against the white brick walls of his dorm.

“Everyone will be over later, but I just wanted to do a toast for your timezone. It will be like three am for you when everyone else gets off work.”

“So this is a private party? Well… okay let me get my card.”

“Seriously? Not that kind of party!”

“Didn’t say it was. Congratulations, by the way. I got you something! Well like, I found it, and it’s so you-“

Gigi flicks the camera to face forwards, swinging to a painting hanging in his closet.

“Aw, well you didn’t have to- what the fuck is that?”

“Putin! I painted him in like the eighth grade. My mom was dropping off some stuff last weekend and I can mail him-“

Nicky’s eyebrows shoot up, pots and pans clattering on the other end of the line.

“ _Bitch_ , I am trying to not be the victim of a hate crime.”

Gigi laughs a little bit, flipping the camera back to focus on his face.

“I never asked, what do you even do?”

“What?”

“Like you- you have a job right? What’s your job?”

“Ah, I’m working, well I worked at a makeup store, but now I have some contracts, and maybe, you know- this neighborhood is where all the bars and the clubs are. If there’s no work on the runways maybe some will be looking for new girls.”

Gigi’s cheeks run hot for a moment.

“Wait, you- _you’re a girl?_ ”, he asks weakly, hoping it won’t absolutely ruin their entire… whatever it is, when you’d rather have a private housewarming alone in bed, than pretend to enjoy the beers that are flowing through the rest of the hall downstairs.

“Only when I’m being paid. Do you know- well, you have to in America you have RuPaul’s show- it’s like that-“

“You do drag? Wait, really?”

“ _Shhhh._ ”, he stops them, pressing a finger between his lips. “It’s like, I haven’t got any bookings yet but some of the clubs are interested- some of the parties, too. I can be a bottle girl.”

Gigi simply blinks repeatedly in the screen.

“What- is that too gay? I thought we were both pretty gay.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Hey-“, she keeps the camera on her face, her eyes flicking up towards the naked mannequin resting against his closet. Most of Gigi’s things were still at home, but there was a black feathered swimsuit she had been working on- if she took out the waist just a bit-

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Wow, we are getting deep in, Dr Phil.”

“Seriously, what is it?”

“I’m feeling pink recently. Usually just- something simple. Blue. Black. It’s soothing.”

“Black is _not_ a color.” 

“Then it’s my favorite not-color.” Nicky pours from the bottle into a flute on her counter. “Get something to drink, come on.”

“Uh-“

“Doesn’t matter what. Come on!”

Gigi reaches for her Red Bull, yesterday’s alcohol mixed into it, tangy and stale in the metal can.

“Okay.”

 _“Pace a Salute!_ ”, Nicky cheers, and they clink their drinks against the camera.

-

Two months later, there’s a wrapped package on his stoop, covered in foreign postage, wet at the edges like it’s been through- what Americans would call the ringer, the labels so scratched over he can barely make out the return address, when he cuts the cardboard open on his kitchen counter.

If this was that stupid Putin painting, he was deleting Gigi from his entire life-

Inside, is fabric folded in paper, a little cloth ribbon tied around where a card is tucked in.

> _**"I dont know what your actual skin tone is because you need better lights but merry Christmas if it doesn’t fit or doesn’t match sell it on eBay and get better lights",** _

Gigi has written, in neat, large letters.

Nicky carefully unfurls the rest of it, and there’s a blue and pink bodysuit inside, accented with green and yellow panels that glitter like the facets of a diamond, and a yellow jacket, the bottom cut off just below the ribs, hemmed in thick stitches so the fabric won’t roll up.

 _Had Gigi gone and had this made? Or was it off the rack?_ , he wondered, digging for price tags and labels in the fabric.

Nothing.

_Shit._

He fires off a message to Gigi, who is still showing as offline, given it’s probably six in the morning where he is.

_14:17_

**-**

**How much is this “gift” you got me? Wtf dude…**

**FaceTime me later.**

There’s predictably no response, and that night; he paints carefully in the mirror in his bedroom, laying out the little black dress he had chosen for the performance on his bed.

At the very last minute though, it’s that little suit from Gigi that wins out, nude panels sliding over his tights as he shimmies in front of the mirror.

It’s not perfect, but it all looks very nice.

When later comes, Gigi is wearing a red wig with blonde streaks that he runs his long fingers through, winking at the camera.

“My mom’s actually a professional seamstress. It didn’t cost anything, babe.”, he says with a little shrug, a tight yellow dress barely moving around his shoulders. There’s always a party here; and Gigi can’t imagine hating it more, the little college town bigger than he was used to, and yet still- too small for what he really wanted.

“If you want other stuff, I’ll send it. There’s lots of stuff that I don’t really wear anymore and we kind of have the same style. It’s not like anyone can say anything, then they’d have to admit they’ve seen me out in public. Or I could even make you something, I’m bored all the time.”

“Why are you doing this?”, Nicky asks.

“I dunno. It’s not like you’re my competition. You’re my _friend._ ”

* * *

_19:41_

_-_

**Anyway, I’m dropping out of school, getting a nose job and moving out to LA.**

Gigi types out on his phone, underneath the table at his family’s annual thanksgiving dinner.

_19:41_

_-_

**Maybe not all at once.**

Nicky’s reply comes lightning fast- making him grin.

“Are you _seriously_ getting nudes right now?”, one of his brothers asks, and their mother glares at the both of them over the table.

“I’m getting some new sketches from my atlier in Paris.”, he seethes, glancing back down at the floor. Nicky’s been trying to teach him French, like it’s something that occupies them so that Gigi doesn’t implode; in between sending him links to his favorite shows to watch, and YouTube links to makeup tutorials.

(He still hasn’t figured out if Nicky _means it_ ; or if he’s trying to be shady, and just doesn’t know how.)

“Atlier is where you get the clothes made, dumbass. Mom’s sewing room isn’t Paris.”

_“Shut up!”_

_“Boys-”_

_19:43_

_-_

**It’s a hard time in life in general.**

**Try not to listen so much to those voices in your head.**

Nicky’s text pops up with a loud, mechanical pinging noise, three dots still hovering under the message as Gigi forces himself to look up from the screen and glower across the table as he reaches for more baby carrots.

_19:43_

_-_

**Make mistakes, but not too many, haha. You’ll figure it out.**

**If it makes you feel a little bit better, I’m moving to San Fran**

_19:43_

_-_

**What? For real?**

Gigi’s nails frantically tap over the screen.

_19:45_

**-**

**Yes! I bought a ticket.**

**And my husband called an immigration lawyer, we’re going to get my green card situation set.**

“ _Lawyer-_ ”, Gigi gasps; and his entire family pauses, glancing over at him.

“Jesus Christ. You did it, didn’t you? You got arrested your first semester, and you weren’t even gonna tell us-”

 _“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”_ , he snaps, flipping the bird at his oldest brother.

_“Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then.”_

Their whole table erupts in a discussion Gigi can’t pay any attention to.

_19:50_

**-**

**Cool.**

**That means I get to see you soon.**

**It’s gonna be great.**

He taps out, and closes the app with a smile.

-

He hadn’t known if _Nicky_ even had a _boyfriend,_ not that it mattered; until it did.

Apparently; he had been married, for almost the whole time they had known each other- a blow Gigi hadn’t quite expected, to leave him as breathless as landing in Los Angeles; the shock not setting in, not in full, anyway- until he is standing in his new apartment, looking down at a menu of instructions on how to set up the wifi in his unit, fingers hovering over everyone in contacts.

He can’t call his mom; not this soon, and his brothers would tell her, and his whole plan would crumble; just like everything had with Nicky; whose calls he had declined for the past solid month; the nights they had spent with their phones propped up behind desks and dressing room mirrors fading into something beyond memory; that he refuses to think about any more than he has to, the messages asking if he’s alright answered in curt, short replies.

How could he have been so stupid, thinking that they were talking-talking, teasing that Nicky and he were friends; when he didn’t even know what his real name was.

(Unless it _was_ Nicky?)

_Shit._

Gigi waits for his phone to load into the app, and refreshes his friends list a couple of times, until he can see Nicky’s icon at the top, the side of the circle cut through with a little green dot, and taps twice to start a call.

“Hi?”

Nicky’s greeting floats in the air, between a breath and utter silence before Gigi swallows his pride, pressing his phone to the side of his face.

“What do you know about connecting a router to a tower if I live on the…um third floor?”

The line crackles, but soon there’s a tiny, familiar chuckle. “ _First of all, that is not how you do any of that-_ ”

They talk a little more, every day; in between, Nicky moves to New York and Gigi cuts a tape that she puts in the mail with a wink. He’s due for a visit home soon, and carefully proposes- maybe it’s time for he and Nicky to meet. New York isn’t far at all, and a layover would make for a cheaper flight, anyway.

-

Their plans stack up in hours of calls; and Gigi think they’re almost back to normal. Until, three days before his flight is supposed to leave, he gets a call he’s forgotten to wait for, and his fingers hover over the message box below Nicky’s name, vibrating with anxiety and excitement all at once.

_09:22_

**-**

**Hey. I had a family thing come up.**

He types, and then erases the text, steeling himself as he taps out another one that makes a little more sense, and doesn't seem like such a lie.

_09:30_

**-**

**I’m so so so so sorry about this**

**I had some things come up and my trip fell through.**

He sends this instead, surprised to see Nicky start typing back immediately.

_09:35_

**-**

**You’re not going to believe this**

**I have some work things that started recently and so it would have been really shitty to have a guest over now.**

_09:35_

**-**

**No way!**

_09:37_

**-**

**Yeah. :(( But we’re gonna hang out someday, I swear!**

_09:37_

**-**

**Dont worry! You’re definitely gonna see me.**

**Real real real soon!**

-

“-Where do I go?”, Gigi asks, pulling at the bottom hem of the ornate jacket she wore, fiddling with the gold telescope in her hands. The lights behind the set burned brightly, making the thicker bottoms of the outfit feel much warmer than he had remembered them being.

“Go to that green square on the ground, and wait there, when you see the little arrow light up, you can enter the Werk Room and then we’ll have you stop inside, get your opening line, and let you see the other girls.”

“Okay.”

He does as he’s told, prancing in and kicking his boots in front of him as the lights move to capture Gigi’s entrance, his head only snapping to the side when given the signal, so he can see the others who are already crowded around the pink tables he’s only dreamed of seeing for so long.

“Holy Shit.. _.Nicky_?!”

In reality; Gigi can see far more of the detail of Nicky’s face; of his eyebrows and carefully painted cheeks and lashes, of all the effort that they had only really talked about, his eternal summer tan and the long fringe of black hair that he’s always nudging across his forehead, or slicked against a beanie, gone behind a platinum blonde veneer that’s so much brighter than Gigi has ever seen. He’s thinner, and taller, careful breaths underneath sequinned shoulder pads, knees knocking together as he gasps.

“ _Gigi_!”

Widow and Crystal glance at each other over the pink table.

“Hold up, you guys know each other?”

In the flesh; Gigi is impossibly small, the sharp angles of his face, and the dark brown hair that sticks up in angles which Nicky traces against the white of his pillows in his bedroom on the screen of his phone in the morning, taped underneath a gold-tipped pirate hat, and lush, wavy curls. He looks like a model on the runways where Nicky used to work; so close to him that he can feel Gigi’s breath on the back of his hand, as he tightens his grip around the epaulets on his shoulder.

“Gigi Goode.”, he repeats, and Gigi giggles a little at that.

“ _The_ Nicky Doll.”, he laughs, and his voice sounds so much more solid, than it ever has over every crossed wire.

Gigi’s hand swings, squeezing Nicky’s tightly as they swing around the table; like the others who are there don’t matter at all. He rests his head on Nicky’s padded shoulder, cocking it just slightly, waiting there, as Crystal’s eyes flash at the scene before them.

“ _…and may the best woman win._ ”, Gigi whispers, only for Nicky to hear.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm migrating most of my fics from my Tumblr to here, just to keep it organized and nice! If you wanna talk about fics or anything, or request something, my tumblr is on my a03 profile if you click on my username!


End file.
